Insomnia
by Perhelediel
Summary: Because when she can't sleep, neither can he. [Abel x Esther]


**Author's Note: **Ah, la la la, how I love the Abel x Esther-ness. This is, once again, a rather self-indulgent exercise in writing romance scenes. However, I hope that all who read this enjoy it, because I truly enjoyed writing this particular bit of fluff for this pairing and think it is one of my better romance snippets. Please let me know what you think!

I _do _follow novel canon to some extent, but obviously this plays off of the very spoiler-iffic end of the anime. If you have not seen past Episode 21, please do not read this to avoid unnecessary spoilage. Thank you! This takes place after Esther becomes...well, she ain't _Sister_ Esther anymore and after Abel comes back from his, uh, _trip_. Yeah.

This is dedicated to **Darth Stitch**, who writes such lovely Abel x Esther that inspires me to no end, and to **MentalMentos**, my RL best friend who deals with my baka-ness 24/7. D

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She really _had_ thought of everything, hadn't she?

Abel had to hand it to the Empress, the Augusta Vradica of the New Human Empire--and coincidentially, his own dear little sister. Perhaps it was that blessed gift of "sibling rivalry" that had planted that self-satisfied smirk all over Seth's young face, but he'd never really thought of the two of them as sharing that friendly enmity. In fact, it was mostly thanks to her that he wasn't tearing his hair out over the current situation.

Although, he thought ruefully, there seemed reason enough.

It wasn't as if the danger was any less. In fact, if anything, it was even more dire than it ever had been in his many long years. But he was Abel Nightroad. He wasn't one to fret over things--not anymore, anyway. He'd seen nearly a millenia of humankind's mistakes, the mending of these mistakes, the passing and healing of souls...

Oh, perhaps he really was living up to his image of being a bumbling, clumsy idiot. But it seemed magnified tenfold when it came to dealing with a certain little red-haired nun.

"Abel, really, you've got to lighten up. I told you--I've got it covered!"

His dear little sister had then promptly tugged on his long silver ponytail, eliciting a rather amusing squeaking noise from the tall priest.

"Now go! Shoo!" Seth had said, green eyes dancing under the curtain of bobbed raven hair. "I've got those dolls to set up and you KNOW there's someone inside who wants to see you! And remember, she's the crown Queen of Albion. Don't go forgetting your formalities, big brother."

Ah, yes. Well. There was _that_, also.

Abel knew very well that God had granted him a miracle of miracles, in the form of Caterina, Father Tres, and of course...Lilith. He was aware that he'd...departed, for quite some time. He regretted it, but he did not remember much of his time in the realm beyond. White light, perhaps some warmth.

All before he was rudely rushed back into his mortal coil, fusing 100 with the dreaded nanomachines in his veins to fight with every ounce of passion and unbridled fury he had in him--against a being equally as powerful as he.

He'd been told that he'd fallen in the line of duty, and that he had begun his eternal rest in an ebony casket nestled among candles and rose petals in a church outside of Londonium. And, although Caterina had been reluctant to recall this rather important detail, a certain little figure in a white habit had not left his side even for a moment. The little nun had also been party to his rather violent resurrection, the blackened wood shattering into thousands of splinters as Crusnik 02 was reborn in all its glory. He'd glanced at her for only a second before the battle began, adrenaline racing through his no-longer dormant body.

And here she was, in the next room.

"Esther! Hey, Esther!"

"Shh, shh!" he whispered frantically, turning to the tiny Empress beside him, his blue eyes wide with panic. "Don't draw attention to m--uh!"

He was _not_ ready for this.

Seth had given him one mischeivious little grin before pushing him through the set of double doors into the airship's main dining room, shutting them behind him even as he turned to attempt to stop her before she locked him in.

Crusnik 03. His dear baby sister. Oh, if she only knew the hell he was going to--

"...Father Nightroad?"

Oh dear.

He stood motionlessly at the door, gloved hands still resting on the doorknobs, staring intently at the woodgrain. He could feel the heat rushing up into his face.

It _was_ Esther, after all. The feisty, petite young woman who'd been his partner, comrade, and dearest friend since he'd met her that day in Istavan. And...coincidentally, the last face he'd seen and the last name he'd spoken.

Screwing up all his courage, he squared his shoulders, let go of the brass doorknobs, and turned.

A great number of white-draped tables with elaborate plate settings stood empty among high-backed chairs, the mid-afternoon sun streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was no wonder--the Tristan was still the grandest aircraft that the Kingdom of Albion had to boast. But where was...

There.

Esther sat in one of the chairs, perhaps three table lengths away from him. He marveled briefly--her dear face was drawn in an emotion beyond words, her red hair clashing fantastically with the blue trim on her white habit. Her blue eyes were misty, her eyelashes clinging together with unshed tears. She had one of the cloth napkins held in her tiny hands--but it was twisted and contorted beyond all recognition, her fingers tense under white gloves. She was always one to fidget when she was nervous, he thought.

"Sister Esther!"

Sister...? Oh Lord, where were his manners? Abel choked out something indistinguishable, before sweeping into a deep and uncharacteristically graceful bow. His face was burning, he was sure of it.

Oh, fiddlesticks.

"Your majesty," he spoke to his feet, feeling oddly foolish. In truth, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to run and greet his dear friend with a--

A soft warmth touched his shoulder, so lightly that the sudden sensation nearly cost him his balance.

Abel's breath caught briefly, a sudden lightness overtaking his lithe body. He inclined his head, seeing Esther standing right before him.

"Call me Esther, Father Nightroad...like you used to," she implored softly, her gloved hand resting on his shoulder.

His eyes softened. Oh, Good _Lord_, this was awkward.

"If you insist, dear Esther."

Her tearful gaze found his own piercing stare, and before she could say a word, he cracked his best silly smile at her.

"Sorry for the little scare!" he apologized cheerfully, clapping both his hands onto Esther's shoulders. "I'm more trouble than I'm worth, you know."

He'd done it. He'd found that little bit of Esther that was being surpressed by the tears and brought her out.

"Oh, Father," she said irritably, brushing away her tears impatiently. "Don't even joke about that."

"Oh, why not? Lady Caterina certainly had her share of fun. Go on, hit me with your best shot!" What was he DOING? Talking about his death like it was some passing squall or a change in the weather?

But suddenly something warm and wonderfully soft had hit him square in the gut, nearly knocking the breath out of his body. Esther had thrown herself at him, and from the pitiful sounds coming from somewhere around his waist, she was sobbing her heart out.

The sensation was odd, pleasing as it was, as he caught the young woman up in a tight and heart-healing embrace, lifting her clean off the floor as she clung even tighter to him, all proprieties thrown to the wind.

Esther was sobbing something into his shoulder, her arms wound like a vice about his neck, holding fistfuls of his cassock. He merely closed his eyes, holding her little form to him with all the gentleness and security he could muster.

"Father Abel, I'm...I'm s-so happy to see you..."

"And I'm happy to see you," he murmured at long last, not at all surprised at the lack of steadiness in his own voice. "...it'll be all right, now."

It would have to do, for now, he supposed.

---------------

Abel Nightroad was not one to wake in the wee small hours of the morning. No, not even his traditional tea with cream and thirteen sugars could stave off blessed sleep when his night was to be uninterrupted by meddling duty. He preferred to take what respite the Good Lord granted him.

Except, of course, when a sudden prodding jolted him out of dreamless slumber.

His heart jolted, hand flying automatically to the gun holster he hung suspended from the top of the headboard. His fingers had barely swiped the leather when he recognized the figure standing beside his bed.

"Esther?"

He took stock of himself quickly: yes, he was still on the Tristan, he was in his Vatican-issue nightclothes and cap, and he'd been quite enjoying the extra hours of unperturbed sleep.

He blinked sleepily at the young woman cast mostly in shadow, recognizable only by the moonlight in the distant window.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, alarmed suddenly.

"N-no...oh dear," she muttered to herself, suddenly turning with her hand pressed to her forehead and pacing away from the side of his bed.

Abel propped himself up on his elbows, cocking an eyebrow at the young woman. "Esther, it must be three in the morning, and yet you're up and prodding your poor tired friend awake. Now, what do you need to tell me?"

Esther was biting her nails now, staring at the far wall.

"I'm just...er...well...I'm just w-worried about this trip, that's all."

Abel sat up, reaching for his dressing gown and pulling it on. "This trip?"

"Yes," she said eagerly, suddenly turning toward him. "I, um...no one explained what was...what was being done in Albion to aid my departure. Yes."

Her cheeks were stained pink.

"Ah, is that right?"

Abel was thankful that Seth wasn't around to muss Esther's hair and chant something foolish like, "Liar, liar, pants on--"...well, _really_.

"Yes," she said, more assertive in her lie now that he was smiling gently at her. Oh, she really did give him less credit than he deserved, didn't she? "Would you...would you please tell me so I can sleep peacefully?"

"Well," Abel said, standing up straight and pulling the dressing gown closer about him, the nightcap slipping off and dropping silently to the floor. "Seth has thought this out very well, Esther. The reason you had to wear your old habit was a disguise, a quick trick to let you be inconspicuous as you boarded. Then Seth and Caterina had android dolls from Byzantium brought in through the underground canal, and placed in the palace to act as Queen and the Queen's advisor, Mr.--er, was it Vincent--?"

"Virgil," she said automatically. Her eyes flicked away from him then, and her face flushed to nearly match her hair. He smiled inwardly. She knew all this already, didn't she?

"Yes, Virgil. So you see, Esther--the Contra Mundi knows nothing of the assassination attempts in the Empire. All we can do is pray we are as lucky as the Empire was in outwitting the conspiracy."

She did not appear to be paying attention as she nodded absently, twirling a lock of her short hair.

"Th-thank you, Father Nightroad," she murmured, sounding only the slightest bit defeated.

"And now, Sister Esther," he said pertly, taking her gently by the forearm and steering her toward a pair of chairs by the two floor-to-ceiling windows, "I want you to tell me the REAL reason why you woke me up, as your body language has spoken quite clearly that worrying over this trip wasn't it."

"And since when are you an expert in reading body language?" came the snappish reply.

"Since I realized you turn redder than a cherry whenever you're lying," he answered cheerfully. "Blushing becomes you, you know."

"Father Nightroad!"

Before she could shrug him away, he had pressed her down firmly into one of the cushioned seats. She made a tempered little squeak, but chose instead to scowl and pull her own dressing gown tighter about her. Abel sat down across from her, scooting the wooden legs across the hardwood floor until he could face her.

"Now tell me."

She looked up at him somewhat desperately. "I'm...not getting out of this without a fight, am I?"

"No, you are most certainly not," Abel replied, eyes dancing. He sat back in the chair, watching her. "And if you escape without giving me good reason to have lost those sweet precious moments of sleep, rest assured, I'll come haunt you in YOUR quarters. Eye for an eye, you know."

"But I thought you always quoted 'turn the other cheek', you silly."

"That's only when Astha gets too violent," he reminded her. He smiled brightly, waiting for her to break the silence.

"I...uhm..."

"Yes?"

"I did it."

Abel opened his eyes. "What?"

Esther stared at her hands, which were laid limp and palm-up in her lap. A sinking feeling suddenly took Abel's heart. She couldn't possibly--

"It was...all my fault. Father...I got in the way, and he killed you..."

Abel sat in stunned silence, suddenly too heartsick to even breathe.

"I was helpless," she said softly, her voice suddenly high and trembling. "I just stood there and watched it happen."

"Esther--"

"I'm so sorry!" she cried suddenly, burying her face in her hands. "I couldn't save you...I c-couldn't do anything!"

Abel knew immediately he'd rather see her burst into hysterical tears, or to throw herself into his arms again like she had earlier in the dining hall--anything except this whispered confession, with her silence and dry despair draining all the spirit from her countenance. The raw grief and guilt was almost too much for him to bear.

On a sudden surge of boldness, he reached over and tenderly pried her little fingers from her face, bringing them down to rest on both their knees, which were touching in their close proximity. He held her hands tightly as he leaned in closer to her face.

"Esther," he said sharply.

His stern tone knocked her out of her silent reverie, and she jumped a little, looking at his face with a touch of alarm.

"Did you honestly think that it was your fault, all this time?" he asked her, his brow still furrowed in indignance.

She nodded mutely, shutting her eyes to stem the sudden tears that had welled up. Her hands went limp in his firm grasp. He sighed, letting the temper-driven adrenaline in his veins slow.

"Esther, you must understand," he told her, more gentle, but still firmly. "If...if HE wanted to kill me, Esther, there was nothing you could have done. Do you hear me? Nothing!"

She didn't nod or shake her head, simply cried silently, her face devoid of any light or gladness. He didn't like it.

"Esther, look at me."

She did open her eyes then at his stern command, slowly letting her gaze drift over him to meet his eyes. Her eyes reflected the moonglow, her despair utterly heartbreaking but inexplicably beautiful.

"We're together now, aren't we?" he asked her, softening. "We're both alive and well, both here on this ship--both still the same silly fools we've always been?"

She smiled then, a small laugh like a tinkling bell escaping.

"So stop all of this foolishness," he said warmly, letting go of her hand to gently wipe away her tears with the sleeve of his dressing gown. "Anything else you want to tell me before you let a poor priest go back to bed?"

She suddenly loosed her grasp from his, and Abel's heart skipped a beat as she cupped his face softly in both her tiny hands.

Esther cursed the tears that were still persistenly running down her cheeks as she felt her friend's cheeks grow warm beneath her fingers. She traced over his cheekbones, threaded her fingers into his long silver hair that had been let down for the night...

She wasn't sure exactly what she was doing, but here he was, sitting in front of her...alive, real. She felt her heart swell with an emotion beyond words as he closed his eyes at her touch, his eyebrows turning slowly upward as his expression turned almost sad with wistfulness. She traced her fingertips over his eyelids, brushing against his thick eyelashes with a soft caress.

Her breath caught as his clear blue eyes suddenly opened, and his hands flew almost with almost imperceptible swiftness to catch hers in his grasp. She froze, nearly close enough to feel his breath on her face.

Oh, he had known he had loved her for such a very long time.

Her fingers curled over his, shifting in his grasp to instead interlace with his as she pulled them close to her heart.

But to see that love _returned_...?

When their lips touched, it was so softly that neither had even realized it had happened. Abel drew back slightly, closing his eyes to savor her sweet scent, to quietly wonder over the sudden feeling that was sweeping over him, driving him past the reaches of human emotion and into something so much purer.

Esther tentatively leaned in just a little closer, until the tip of his nose brushed against her cheek. Willing the wellspring of happiness that was surging somewhere deep inside her to calm, she felt herself slip away as he finally kissed her ever so gently on the lips.

Abel felt warm...warmer than he ever had felt in the 900 years he'd mourned in the catacombs of Rome and traveled the world, taking in all the joys and griefs it had to offer him. It was all he could think about, all he could know--the soft and sweet feeling of Esther's lips, the release of whatever momentary anxiety he'd felt in the moment before their kiss.

He gently let go of Esther's fingers, color and light flashing through his mind as he tenderly took her face between his hands, pulling her just that much closer as he pressed his lips to hers. He threaded his fingers back into her soft red hair, stroking it gently as he felt her press closer to him as well, wrapping her arms around his neck. She whimpered softly, so lost in the feeling and sheer thrill of this kiss that she could hardly bring herself to think.

Abel could stay like this forever, he thought, as the kiss ended as softly as it began, their breath mingling and both their eyes still wistfully closed in the wake of that precious moment they had just shared.

Esther was the first to return, blinking once or twice before looking up into Abel's angelic face, his closed eyes unobstructed by those silly useless glasses that still sat on his bedside table, forgotten in his haste to assague Esther's doubts. Abel always was first to take away whatever worries she had. Always.

His eyes finally fluttered open, the clear blue nearly taking Esther's breath away as he looked at her with more care and warmth than she could ever have hoped. She tentatively smiled at him, reaching up to stroke his cheek, gasping quietly as he warmed toward her touch and reached up to press her hand against his cheek.

After a moment, Abel opened his eyes to smile lovingly down at Esther, before lifting her to her feet and pulling her into another kiss that turned passionate rather quickly. Esther's hands grasped folds of his dressing gown in an almost panicky fashion, letting Abel deepen the kiss until she was entirely lost in the feeling alone. It ended with both of them breathless, Esther weakening against Abel as he held her tightly to him, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

"...do you think you can sleep now?" he whispered, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Yes, I think so," Esther answered him quietly, closing her eyes as she listened to his heart beat.

Seeing that his love was beginning to fall asleep, he gently bent to sweep her up into his arms, cradling her slight form to him as he laid her softly on the mattress in the moonglow. After a moment's thought, he sat on the edge of the bed and laid down beside her, gathering her into his arms.

"...thank you... Abel," she whispered sleepily as she nestled into his arms, pressed against his chest as he laid on his side.

"Shh, love," he whispered, gently stroking her hair. "Go to sleep."

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Ahh, whee, -floats away on cloud of fluffiness-. Okay, so it was an excuse for pure, sugary, unadulterated fluff. (Just the way Abel likes it, eh? Make it thirteen sugars.)

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